thisavrou_log | we find out what we're made of

Entry tags:

we find out what we're made of

Who: Hermione Granger, Katsa and open
When: End of June and throughout July
Where: Treehouse in R3
What: Katsa and Hermione are finally moving in.
Warnings: N/A

[ The house is nothing like anything she had seen in the Drabwurld and, Hermione thinks to herself quietly, that's probably for the best. The wonderful opulence of the Citadel was a little distracting compared to the quiet, gentle nature of her house in Haven and the Harbourage had been somewhere in the middle, but this... The treehouse is back to basics, simple and charming and wonderful, and Hermione practically relishes it.

There's no real working electricity, but she can fix that with a little bit of runic magic and some spells here and there - and the offer to Katsa of her choice of what she wants to brighten her own room. She can transfigure the furniture they need and she's more than good enough at charms to change things and make it a little more homey. The first few days of the 'moving in' period are more 'Hermione making sure everything is okay' than anything else - and, it seems, she takes it all on her own shoulders.

Sometimes she checks in with Katsa. Sometimes she forgets.

When it's all ready and done it's already the beginning of July and Hermione is ready to bring her friend to their little home. It's so different from anything she's had before and she loves it; she wants to be removed from anything that reminds her too strongly of the world she'd left behind, especially when she knows that she and Katsa could spend some of their time talking about all the things that were left unsaid. It's better to move forward, as far as Hermione's concerned, and that means pretending all of that is well over and done with. There's no use bringing up old arguments when they're making a place for themselves here.

Finally, despite the chill, the windows are clean, the house is warmed with runes and charms and Hermione is settling in, leaving the windows open and milling around the neighbourhood, wondering who else lives nearby and if she ought to go and introduce herself. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Neighbors aren't something he's ever had before. Not at least like this. There had always been people in the rooms in the tavern, but they came and went and besides, didn't even know he was there, making curious notes about their lives. Whoever these people were, they would see him, know him (Cole), and maybe like having him around.

Before he goes over, he wanders the wood for the first time in weeks. He wants to show his new neighbors his good intentions, so he gathers up a bouquet of wildflowers of all sorts, careful in how he arranges them in his hands by color and size. He knows the flowers don't mind— they want to be seen! They are a little wilted and ragged from the front, but to him, still beautiful.

He knocks gently at the door, not wanting to disturb in case the new occupants were busy. He had cleaned up a bit, did his best to scrub the dirt off of his hands and shake the dust off of his clothes. Best to make a good impression!]

[ The house is coming along slowly and Hermione is getting more and more comfortable with how things are beginning to look. It feels a little more like home, a little less like somewhere where she's just meant to settle down and try and survive in, and she appreciates that. It's never going to be the Drabwurld and it's never going to be anything like what she wants, not really, because it's not home, but it's getting there. It is better than any alternative.

The knock on the door pulls her out of her thoughts and she blinks, pausing for a moment, before she shifts and pushes herself up and away from her books and her notes. She probably does need a break, she thinks, considering how much work she's been putting into things over the last few days. She wants things to be right, and that makes her slight perfectionist nature rise to the surface again. ]

Hello?

[ Opening the door, Hermione stares in surprise at the boy with flowers, tilting her head for a moment before she softens, a smile settling on her face. ]

[Cole doesn't respond immediately. He's following the trail of scars down her face and along her neck, he's wondering at the odd tattoo on her hand. How soft the music is with her, and how safe. Without them having exchanged a single word he believes he can trust her with everything and that she would never intentionally hurt anyone— she doesn't hold her pain in her hands like a weapon.

Finally, he extends the flowers out to her.]

My name is Cole. You moved in next door to me.

[He pauses, smiles a little.]

I wanted to make your new house happy, so I brought the flowers.

[ There's a moment of disconcertion, where Hermione wonders if she has something on her face - but she is used to the stares and people looking at her, now. She's marked with her shame and the scar burns bright red against the paleness of her skin, her lips turning down for a moment. She's self-conscious about it even as she tries to be proud; she wants to be strong, to accept her failings, but when it's done so clearly and so brutally sometimes it's difficult for her, in her worst days, to feel as though she has anything to be proud of.

The flowers come as a surprise, though, and she reaches out to take them after a moment's hesitation. ]

It's very nice to meet you, Cole. Thank you, you didn't have to.

[ Nodding her head, she takes a step back and motions to the inside of the house. ]

Would you like to come in and sit down while I find a vase to put these in?

I... yes.

[He feels compelled to take off his hat before entering her home. Why? He does it anyway, holds it carefully in his hands as he looks around. The smile on his face grows wider. There were touches here and there in the house with Solas and Neriel— and he can remember how nice he had thought it at first— but they had become hollow after a while. Neither Solas or Neriel were really present there, they were always floating away on the wind of their thoughts far away from their bodies.

He feels like Hermione has tried very hard to be present, here, now. As if this was truly a place to make her home instead of a brief stop on the journey to elsewhere.

The hat crumples smaller between his hands as he tries to keep his urge to touch things in check.]

Are you... from here?

Make yourself comfortable.

[ Hermione moves and wanders around the house for a moment, looking for something that might work - and eventually she finds a bowl in one of the cupboards in the little kitchen and uses that to transfigure a vase. It's not the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, if she's being honest, but it works and it's manageable - and she can put the flowers in it easily enough. They look nice, she thinks absently, and she goes to place them in the middle of the lounge before she turns back to look at Cole. ]

I'm not, no. I'm from a place called Britain, but I was in a world called Allaidh Darach before this.

[ Her lips turn down into a small, sad frown for a moment before she shakes her head. ]

Is this your world? Or are you from somewhere else too?

[ The flowers do look nice in their vase. They look settled into their new home, like they were there all along and he had just noticed them.

Britain and Allaid Darach don't mean anything to him, but he's not surprised. Many people here are from many places he's never heard of. The fact that she's from outside reassures him a little. The people who are from here seem to struggle with understanding him even more than other arrivals like him.

In the effort of being polite, he keeps it to himself how the question seemed to be a drop and a ripple in a pool of sadness in her heart.

He sits down in their living room, a little stiff in the chair but visibly relaxing as the moments pass. His fingers absently familiarize themselves with the wood and cloth beneath them.]

I am from Thedas. It's... it looks the most like this part of where we are. There's no metal there or. Well there is, but not in the great, shining towers like here.

Oh! Thedas!

[ There's a bubble of something warm that bursts inside Hermione as she thinks about Thedas - and it feels, for a moment, as if her back burns a little in response to the very idea. She doesn't think, for a moment, that this young man might be aware of who Nasrin is (she's not quite that naive or hopeful, not anymore) but thinking that he might know something about her world, her place, the people... That inspires something inside of her, and she brightens a little.

At the same time she doesn't really want to overload him, though, and she makes herself a little more comfortable, settling down. ]

I knew a few people from Thedas before I came here. There was a Knight named Cullen, another named Aveline, and an elf named Nasrin. Oh! And Sebastian. I can't forget him.

[ Did anyone else ever tell her they were from Thedas? Hermione frowns as she thinks, as hard as she can. ]

They all said it was an interesting place. I can't even imagine a world like it, honestly.

[Cole can't help but brighten too. Thedas has never made him that happy, nor anybody else he knows. But it is a nice place, if you think about it, and there are a lot of things about it that he misses.

He smiles at her, a little strained from lack of practice but still genuine.]

I do know Commander Cullen. He is a good man.

[The other names are unfamiliar, so he lets them drift away.]

What do you imagine it to be?

[ The smile she's given is small and soft but it's there, and it makes Hermione relax, feeling less tense in her own skin. She knows that sometimes she can fall into the deep end of her own thoughts and expressions and, sometimes, she can get a little excitable when it comes to talking about things, especially something she is passionate about or has studied, but she doesn't want to put anyone off. She wants to make friends here, and she's desperate to do her best to make a good impression. ]

He was wonderful. He and I worked together on many things and - and he was always a good friend. He went back home - [ it's not entirely true, but she prefers to lie to herself on that front than to think of the truth ] - before I came here.

[ Focussing, Hermione lets herself think. ]

Nasrin described it as something... Beautiful, but damaged, I suppose. But aren't a lot of worlds? When I was at home I wanted to do something good for my world - I wanted people to see what I saw, that things didn't have to be bad. It was true in the Drabwurld as well, and I bet it's true for Thedas.

[ But maybe this is off topic. ]

I think... I imagine it to be somewhere beautiful, with power, and - and so much to learn and do, but not enough time. With people that have so many stories that I wish I had the time to read, and so much to learn. I'm sure there's sadness, too, though.

[ Leaning back, she shifts, rubbing a hand over the curve of a Dalish tattoo that peeks, hidden under the fabric of her cardigan, just over her shoulder. ]

[Cole listens intently to what she says, but he finds the words are as water. It's not that he doesn't understand, it's that well, their meaning doesn't seem to matter so much as what's behind them and who. He watches her face shift through expressions of happiness, joy, curiosity, and he does his best to map each little change, suddenly deciding that he never wants to forget any of them. The song radiating out of her heart seemed to resonate with his own. He could hear the harmonies begin to form. The good radiates out of her so bright he can't help but stare.

And he does stare. Even after she finishes speaking, he is still staring. He realizes it, blinks, and feels heat come to his cheeks though he doesn't understand why. He scrambles for words, anything appropriate to say, and manages to come up with:]

I... yes.

[He clears his throat, tries again.]

People have the same hurts as anywhere, even though here they are sometimes harder for me to understand. I want to do good too.

[ Hermione can't do anything except let herself watch Cole, waiting to hear what he has to say. There's something about him that makes her feel a little more comfortable, as if she can relax - she knows she's a trusting person by nature, only a little damaged by the influence of the Drabwurld, but she's settled down and she's in her own home and she has the power to protect herself. No one can take that from her.

She doesn't notice the flush on his cheeks, making herself comfortable in her chair instead. She doesn't want to put pressure on him or make him feel as though she expects anything from him, not when he had already come over just to welcome her to the neighbourhood. It's sweet of him, she thinks, and she appreciates it. ]

The same hurts?

[ Hermione pauses, considering the words for a moment. ]

I suppose pain is universal, isn't it? It's not something that the world changes. It's part of being a person.

Yes!

[Cole leans forward, forgetting the strange flush in favor of the topic at hand. His hands flutter as his words tumble rapid and buzzing out of his mouth and he holds her gaze as best he can. He thinks she might just be able to

Understand.]

Hurt is here too, and maybe the Draubwurld, and Britain, and anywhere else. I am ok being here because I can help here too. It's not the same as Thedas, but people are still people. People still need to hear that they are good, and that things are not their fault.

[ His enthusiasm is a little bit infectious and Hermione finds herself smiling before she can do anything else - she hasn't had much time for going out of her way to try and make friends and right now it seems as though one has stumbled into her lap. She's not entirely sure what to say, not at first, but the words come slowly even as she finds them sticky and thick on her lips. ]

I...

[ Hermione breathes out gently. She knows about wanting to feel good enough, about guilt, about pain on her shoulders, and it settles over her like a dark cloud before she forces herself forward. She can't think about her own sadness and self-doubt when she has something to focus on, something to look forward to.

She refuses to think about herself right now.]

How do you help people?

[ Katsa isn't a particularly social person. The concept of visiting neighbors, making a social call, isn't a wholly strange one: she grew up nobility, after all, and lords were always quibbling over who lived closest to his lands, and how far his trees had gone on the edge of one's property, and couldn't they do something about the view? You always had to know who was behind it, so you could best know how to proceed. She'd been on these trips when Raffin made them, or Giddon. Even Po wandered the fishing village just south of his castle. But it always seemed silly to Katsa, and she merely sat and watched, aware of frightened eyes always careful to avoid hers.

She knows Cole and Hermione are talking. Katsa ignores them, mostly, when she comes home and sees them, sees the flowers sitting offered in a vase she's never seen.

Katsa takes off her shoes, sits, glances Cole's way.

Well. It's her home, too. She doesn't have to say anything if she doesn't wish it.

Still, Katsa can almost hear Po's voice in her mind, laughing at her. She shakes her head, scowls, and then does her best to look as friendly as possible. (It's an almost comical effect.) ]

Who are you?

[Perhaps if he had been a human drilled on the proper social what-to-dos and polite-and-not he would have taken offense at Katsa first pointedly ignoring him. But he is barely becoming human at all— or he's doing his best to be human, anyway— and while he notices her arrival, he doesn't remark on it. The expression though, even he can still its strained, but he doesn't mind.

She is trying.

He tries too, lifts up the corners of his mouth into a smile that is very small, but genuine. ]

My name is Cole.

[He shuffles around in his mind for the correct information to follow it up with.]

I live next door. [What else is he?] I am from Thedas. I, uhm... I like to walk.

Edited 2017-07-13 04:42 (UTC)

[ It's strange, really. Katsa doesn't like feeling so settled. She'd been content to sleep on Arno's floor despite he lack of comfort for months, because it was obviously a place that was temporary—like this place ought to be, somewhere she could leave once she just found the right way to go. Katsa had grown attached to a place she'd wanted to leave once before. She doesn't want to do it again.

Now this starts to feel like a home.

It's a bad thing only when she dwells on it. Taken at face value, things are pretty good. The house is decent, and neither strange nor overwhelming. She's here with Hermione, and they are at peace. ]

I like that we're among the trees.

[ It's wonderful to be able to be around Katsa and not worry about someone catching them or some whispered secret coming out and damning the two of them to death - or worse. It's a miraculous change that reminds her of all the terrors that the Drabwurld had brought, even as she continues to feel the sick pang of nostalgia each and every time she thinks about the people she left behind, the things that she had let slip out of her fingers. It's not entirely her fault that she's here and not there, but there's no undoing it - it's not something within her power.

Instead, she does what she can to make the best of it, focussing on making a life for herself and Katsa, on settling the two of them down into some kind of domestic bliss that no one would expect looking at the pair of them. Who would guess they'd be as close as they are, with a friendship like theirs? ]

I thought you might. I didn't want to get a house that was in the middle of everyone - it would just be too much.

[ And vastly different from Haven or the Harbourage, which were quiet and out of the way. Hermione let herself be around people in her Citadel offices, but elsewhere? That was her quiet place. ]

Is there anything else you need?

[ Hermione speaks, and Katsa finds herself smiling, her discomforting thoughts suddenly and strangely vanished. Katsa doesn't have to prompt Hermione for Hermione to find the right things to say, the right solutions—she's a better friend, Katsa is reminded again and again, than Katsa could ever have the capability to be; and even without Po's Grace Hermione still has the strange ability just to know.

It would be too much, indeed. ]

No. [ Katsa's next reply is becoming something of a habit between them. ] I never need anything. This is a lovely place, Hermione.

[ As long as she doesn't think about being forced to stay somewhere once again. The thought flashes across her face; Katsa winces, smooths it over. ]

What about you? I know you've all your—magic, and things, but—have you forgotten anything?

[ It's easy to turn and look over at Katsa, to look at her and soften, to feel warmth spread through her. A few months ago she would never have imagined the chance that she and Katsa would be able to be like this, that the two of them can come together like this as friends. She had never imagined that they could recover what they had lost, but her happiness is like a beacon - she's a little surprised that the entire world can't see it bursting from their house.

Instead of thinking about it too hard, for once, she moves over, nudging Katsa gently. ]

You can ask, you know. I won't mind.

[ The house is small but it's theirs and no one can take it from them. There are no courts to stand between them, no worries or wars or fights or assassinations, and she settles down, resting against the side before she breathes out. ]

No, no. I have everything I own in my bag, so I'm sure I didn't leave anything behind.

[ Katsa nudges back, a bit harder than Hermione—enough to knock her a little to the side, jostling both of them. ]

I've everything I own in one bag as well. But I imagine there's more in yours. Somehow I'll not be surprised if you pull out another house.

[ Katsa, honestly. Hermione gives her a look before she shakes her head, eternally fond. ]

Mine is a little bit bigger. [ And her lips twitch. ] I have a tent in there that works as a house?

[ Hermione, honestly. Katsa could say the same. ]

Why ever would you need a tent in your bag? Are you afraid of our roof getting blown off in a storm?

[ She just gives her a look. ]

It was from before I came to the Drabwurld, when Harry, Ron and I were travelling.

Oh. [ Katsa doesn't recognize the second name, though she's fairly certain the first is familiar. It's difficult, sometimes, to remember the Drabwurld—almost like a dream. ] From all the way back then? That's a long time to carry something like that around. I'm surprised your arm did not fall off with all the weight.

You don't know when something like that might come in useful, Katsa!

[ Hermione goes over to the table and puts her bag down - and it makes a rather nasty clunk sound as she does, her fingers going to open it instantly. ]

See, I have my books, all my clothes, some spares, my cloaks and even my weapons. It's just easier this way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

we find out what we're made of

slides in here

!!!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

slides right back

! a new challenger appears

hello

!!! babe

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject